The Number One Ladies Assassination Agency
by Bond.Jane
Summary: Stress reliever collection of short stories out of "Educating Emma" universe. Because we can. "Like all talents, it was sleek and sexy and they were doing it together- and let's face it, what else can a bona fide princess and a former evil queen do together (for work, fun or otherwise) that is not going to raise an eye brow or two?"
1. Don't waste your pennies

**Author's notes:**

This story collection of shorts is so meta it makes me dizzy at times. It is an AU departing from Educating Emma, an AU in itself. When reviewing, List of Romantics put quite a few images in my head: Emma in a leather suit. Emma and Regina killing off _the family_ instead of dancing to their tune. Emma and Regina tossing them out of a tower as a post coital activity… I admit it, my thoughts paralyzed at the mention of Emma in a leather suit, so everything after that sounded good… Lol.

Read with caution. This has been rated M for violence, gore and sexy times. You should expect Kill Bill/ Pulp Fiction (minus the drugs) meets Once Upon a Time. Do not take the stories seriously. They are a pastiche meant just as a stress reliever and in no way do I want to see it happening on screen (well, I will not object to Emma in a leather suit.)

Rediver was so kind as to give it a first reading and mentioning it might be fun. Marie was her usual kind self and betaed these stories.

So now, here is the deal: this collection exists as a stress reliever. I will use it when I feel the need to kill someone (I do this in my head several times a day just to keep sane) If you feel the need to kill someone (in your head only) and want Emma and Regina's help with this or if there was something in Educating Emma that you'd have liked to see and didn't happen, let me know. Privately or otherwise.

Much love

Jane

* * *

**Don't waste your pennies throwing them at fountains.**

Before you waste a penny on any random fountain, think that the stupid wish might just come true, alright?

You go and wish you had a family. Sure, good for you, poor little orphan Emma. And then what?

Just when you thought you had no more need of a family, all grown up and ready to go, here's what you do: you leave your comfy life in Boston all because an urchin tells you you're his long lost mom. At first, you just let him drink your bloody juice, and the next thing you know, you're torturing your old car to drive him all the way to Middle of Nowhere, Maine. And you stay in said place because all the business lost for the night was just not enough. No, you go and you stay for a week and then you just might as well make yourself at home in a backwater town sheriff's uniform that makes you look like a sack of potatoes.

Sure, you ogle the mayor a bit (you have to keep the days interesting after all), get ogled back, no sweat, you know how it is, you have a mirror in the house. But then shit gets weird and you end up fighting dragons for the kid with his other mom (no, not divorced lesbian mom at all, why the very idea!) and get, for your troubles, a readymade mommy and daddy who are none other than frickin' Snow White and Prince Charming. Complete with seven dwarves.

Things could only get worse if:

1- Your mom had been Cinderella (let's not forget your less salubrious ways) who, by the way is alive, well and sends her regards;

2- Disney had been right about the singing birds – Enchanted Forest (yeah that one) you can handle, wildlife tra la la-ing all day, not so much.;

3- You were not currently shagging an extremely fine witch – albeit, a premenstrual one.

It could get considerably better if:

1- You were not at the top of the highest tower waiting for the signal to attack;

2- You were not wearing a black leather cat suit (minus the tail, thank god for small mercies) just because it pleases said premenstrual witch;

3- The afore mentioned witch was not perched on a similar tower trying to give you instructions by gesticulating madly which you wouldn't be able to understand even if she wasn't already losing her patience and going at it at the speed of light.

Yep, go on, toss a few more pennies in that fountain, Emma Swan. I dare you.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

An owl hoots in the night and just like that, all thoughts of pennies and the Enchanted Forest leave Emma's mind. The _family_- and that is meant in a totally Godfather mafia sort of way- leaves the protection of their castle walls. The good for nothing traitors, scum of the earth, boils in the ass of the White Kingdom, leave their plush – and totally mortgaged walls (mortgaged to the _cojones_ to the thankfully -for them- dim witted giant out of Candy Floss Mountain – who the hell comes up with the toponymy in this universe?) and make their way to the equally plush and probably just as mortgaged carriage.

_Your mission, should you chose to accept it, is to ensure that they never make it to the White Kingdom._

Mission accepted.

From her tower, the pre-menstrual witch gives the final silent warning and when the carriage sets out, two women fly (magically, of course, the Enchanted Forest is no Mission Impossible and the closest thing to Tom Cruise and his gadgets is a gifted- and pre-menstrual witch) from their respective towers and land imperceptibly on the carriage. Swords drawn, they simply plunge them through the ceiling of the carriage. Silk and brocade might be pretty and comfortable, but a safety feature they are not.

It's easier than opening a packet of Cheetos. And a lot messier too.

Rowena, her good for nothing husband King Sebastian, and her precious child of darkness, Roderick (who, Emma had it on good authority, intended to ask for her hand in marriage in the hopes of adding one more collectible kingdom to The Family's portfolio -honestly, you'd think they were property magnates trying to collect villas in the south of France) meet their bloody and gory fate that night, impaled on the enchanted swords yielded by both cat-like suited ladies like kebabs in the street market in Boston (no, Storybrooke was mercifully clean of street vendors and appealing food carts.)

The driver finally manages to bring the carriage to a stop, the spooked horses the only indication that two more occupants are in the vehicle, magic cloaking them.

Emma breathes deeply, this flying by night still leaves her a little wobbly at the knees, a little air sick.

Regina notices the same thing you would: the movement of the chest when Emma breathes is a great enhancer of the Princess' natural charms. Her breasts press against the black leather, straining, begging her to release them from their confines.

No problem, the pre-menstrual witch thinks. She can be _that_ accommodating. She holds the princess by the hand and poofs them into the abandoned cabin in the woods that used to belong to Emma's grandmother.

It's been a while, but it is still weird to be moaning and writhing in the throes of passion knowing that your in-laws are just down the hall from your room and, with the volume Emma easily reaches, more likely than not, listening to every single one of your best moves.

Not kosher.

As for the mess of shish kebabs in the carriage?

It's always best to prove results. She charms the carriage and directs it to the White Castle. Let dear mother-in-law deal with the body disposal. She has more pressing matters in her hands. And it's still a little funny to have Snow fret at the blood spillage.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The fountain may toss a few pennies back at you. It's not easy to go from totally alone to no elbow room. But all in all, things could have been substantially worse, had you not:

1- Found parents that actually _like _you and what you've made of yourself and your choices;

2- Gained a son that looks at you like you're Wonder Woman or Superman… whichever (the super fire-fighter photoshop still gives you pause);

3- Been shagging a witch that knows the truth of you and loves you despite all your inabilities, failures and short comings;

4- Been shagging a witch that looks at you like her Christmases have all arrived at the same time.

Go on Emma Swan, admit it: you stopped collecting pennies to toss at fountains. Life is pretty great right now.


	2. You blow so well

As a plan, this one was simple and to the point: toss the sorry lot from the highest tower. Simple and effective. The tower was at least 100 feet from the patio, 150 feet from the jagged rocks that sustained it over the lake. Win/win situation.

Also very simple: how to attract _the family_ to the ledge of said tower. An enchanted flute that would make them all dance literally to her tune and off the ledge. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

The truly difficult part: get Regina to lay off the green eyed monster routine and let Emma do her thing with the doe eyes and the cleavage and the soft bedroom tones.

Emma simply pursed her lips and said nothing. She was not overly fond of the possessive tone of the grunted _No_ but she had to admit that it was kinda hot to have Regina fret about the bastard having alone time with her. Specially after the stunt on the balcony. It was hot and that was all there was to it. Not that she was going to feed that particular ego, nuh huh, but okay, it did things to her.

Really nice things.

"It's okay, Gina, I can take care of myself, you know." She snuggled lightly against Regina's neck, simply because it made Regina curl into herself and, almost always, lose her train of thought and that could only be a good thing as there didn't seemed to be a way she was going to win this argument honestly and without making Regina sulk…

"I'm not so sure about that. The last time_"

"The last time you were there to help me, so I'm not sure why you're so worried."

"Because_" Emma snuggled a little more and nipped tentatively at the smooth skin of Regina's neck. "Stop this. I know what you're trying to do."  
"Good. I would be very disappointed if the intent was not clear. And it's nice, what I'm trying to do. Can we concentrate on that for a little while?"

"No." But it lacked conviction. "I don't want you alone with him.

"You're jealous…"  
"Absolutely not. That's preposterous."

"You're jealous. You can't live with the idea that he's going to get to have his hands on me, probably cop a feel or two. You're jea_"

The mirror simply exploded. There were no other words for the way the looking glass simply shattered and the shards flew off the frame like bats out of hell. Regina was breathing hard, her eyes wild and, yeah, okay, a little glint of evil shining out of them.

Every once in a while Emma craved this Regina she had met so long ago. She pulled her to her lap and slid her hands under the lose skirting of the dress, all the stays and lace making the journey home that much more interesting.

"Just say it."

"No."

Emma peppered kisses on the handiest of spots, right in front of her face: Regina's décolletage. "Say it."And her mouth cupped a breast through the silky material of the dress. She nipped and pulled and Regina simply sunk into her further, her intent clear. She moaned Emma's name. "Say it, witch. You're jealous."

"I'm not."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Regina's sole reply was to rub herself against Emma, her chest expanding to take in a much needed lungful of air. Two could play this game. Emma slid her hand further along Regina's bare thighs and squeezed and caressed that flesh. "You're scared that I might let him do this -" She found Regina's clit and pressed it with her thumb lightly, rubbing in moisture already flowing out "-to me." Emma managed to complete. "That I might like it."

"No." Regina's face and neck were flushed and warm.

"No?" Then why are we arguing about it?" Emma stilled her hand. There were so many ways to get Regina to agree to the plan. None of them, at this moment, felt pain free. Denying Regina her pleasure -her eyes wild and needy, her lips parted and the pink, pink tongue moistening her lips- was painful to Emma.

"Just a little." Regina confessed against Emma's shoulder. "Just a little."

"That I might like it? Gina… You're the only one_"

"I don't want him to touch you. Nowhere, at no time. You're mine."

No, there was absolutely no way to win the argument without suffering for it, too. She could not deny Regina anything at all. Not a single thing. Her thumb found its rhythm again, simple and easy and her mouth covered Regina's, drinking in her moans, her sighs, her screams, and finally, her name mumbled while sweat pearled her brow. No, there was absolutely no way of denying her.

She closed her arms around Regina's waist and pulled her closer, the ragged breaths on her neck doing unspeakable things to her own drenched body.

"Okay." Emma surrendered.

"What?"

"Oh, now you lose track of the argument?"

"No. No. You agreed." The tone was incredulous. "You agreed."

"Why are you so surprised? You fight dirty."  
"You started it. But one ever… no one ever…"  
"Shhh, Anything. Anything you want, Gina."

"Because I'm…"  
"Because you're mine. You can say it."

"Please." Regina's eyes were full to the brim.

"What?"

"Please don't do it. Don't be the bait. It bothers me. It hurts here." And her hand went to her heart, tears unshed.

"See, there's nothing you ask crying that I don't do smiling, Gina." But it was nice to hear her asking _nicely_. "I just have a tiny little question. Why a flute?"

Regina shrugged. "Because you blow so well?"


	3. The mission

"No, no, no! Do not lower your guard, Miss Swan."

"But I'm tired."

"Whining, whining, whining. Always whining."

"Bitching, bitching, bitching. Always bitching."

"You need to be prepared!"

"Then call the marines. I thought I'd landed a cushy job here. Turns out that now I need to go out in the middle of the night and shish kebab a cousin or two. And it's freakin' winter outside. Whining is my god given right."

"Then I'm entitled to bitch as you so aptly say. Now, chin up, don't let your guard down." Regina stepped behind Emma and coming flush to her back, hand in her mid section, adjusted the Princess' posture to a more appropriate stance to deflect spells and the odd sword.

"You like it when I whine."

"I do not. It's not an attractive feature. You sound too much like your mother."

"Hey!"

"You, however, like it when I bitch." It was the fact that she was just whispering right at the shell of Emma's ear. It had to be.

"Yeah." It was breathy and yes, well, sexy. "I do." And Emma could actually feel her head leaning backwards seeking out contact, which was an instinct reaction. Only instinct. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Good!" Regina snapped before she could actually succumb to that raspy voice. "That should give you some incentive."

"What for?"

"The mission, Princess."

"The mission? The mission? But I thought_"

"The mission you accepted when Roderick pressed you into a tight window space and had his hands all over your_"  
"Yeah, okay, the mission, alright, already."

"Run the plan by me again."

"Regina, I remember, okay?"

"Recap it."

"Okay... Alright. Interception, engagement, assassination."

"Elaborate on interception."

"This would go a lot easier with some incentive..."

"Incentive?" Emma saw the way Regina's face screwed shut, knit at the eyebrows and couldn't help herself.

"You know… chocolate or… whatever..."

"I've spoiled you. I did great job with Henry and I am failing now."

"You did do a stellar job with Henry."

"Flattery will always work... There." She produced a chocolate bonbon the size of an egg. "Easy!" she pulled it just out of Emma's reach. "Interception?"

Emma sighed long and deep. "The troll bridge, at dawn, after you have isolated them from the rest of the hunting party."

"Engagement?"

"Tell me that the chocolate has praline cream?"

"It has now." Regina quipped.

"Praline... Okay, I do not drop my guard down, keep my breast plate on and do not offer my weakest side."

"Assassination?"

"Chocolate!" She got it from Regina's reluctant hand. "Thank you. Rowena first, Sebastian and save Roderick for last."

"No, no, no. There is no space for improvisation."

"Play nice, Regina. The rodent for last. I want to take my time with him."  
"No! Eliminate the threat first. That's the point."

"The point is revenge."

"The point is you not getting hurt."

"Just so that my mom won't kill you."

Yeah, sure, whatever, Regina thought, but her chest squeezed a little more. This was a bad idea on so many levels.

"Stick with the plan, princess. No improvising. Promise."

Emma stuffed the bonbon in her mouth and nodded. She wasn't going to right out lie her pants off, so she just..._ postponed_ the truth for a little."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

The Troll Bridge was...quaint. There were bits of it missing and no matter how many times Snow had it commissioned for repair, the oddest things kept on happening to the repair crews and the repair supplies and rumours were running ripe it was either haunted or cursed.

Of course, with Emma being an unapologetic non believer, it was just the perfect spot for an ambush. There was no ghost or even troll she feared more that Roderick dancing with her again and as for curses, really, what were the odds?

She hid in the pre-determined spot. James had drawn the map and Regina and Snow had poured over it and argued some and then argued some more until it had been decided on the spot she currently occupied. But that was the rest of her blind obedience.

It was with relief she heard the hunting party approaching, dogs at the head and horses and their riders, all making so much noise that if any animal could be caught unaware, they actually deserved to die, just on account of the sheer stupidity of staying close to a hunting party that announced itself almost by royal edit.

She was getting cold and generally pissed off having had to wait two whole hours just to avoid suspicion. On cue, James accelerated his mount and his men followed suit. It never fail to impress the loyalty he commanded without having to explain anything. She supposed that came with the fact that democracy was a distant memory for them all.

Also on cue, the trap set by Snow snapped to life spooking the horses that were left behind- curiously, Rowena's, Sebastian's and Roderick's. An eerie fog – certainly the work of a curse (yeah, sure)- descended over the three last riders of the party, effectively isolating and cutting them off from the rest.

Like stealing candy from a child.

Like a vengeance, Emma rose from the bushes she'd been hiding and, dutifully, and not without some relief, ran her sword through the first royal neck. Always a fly by the seat of pants girl, Emma had readily "forgotten" the _planed_ order Regina had made her repeat until her throat was dry and no chocolate – or "whatever"- could make up for it. The _Roderick, Rowena, Sebastian _became the first one she caught (Sebastian that ended up his scheming, lying, conniving days on earth with a sword ran through his heart- a clean death for a dirty man) and then the others.

The problem with improvisation was the number of variables. As a hunted animal will do, Rowena turned aggressor and had time to call up her magic and cast a spell. Emma saw it when it was already too late.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Words actually failed her. Even in her mind. Emma Swan, you dumb, dumb, dumb... _blond_. Regina materialised right behind Rowena and, well… culled her with her own magic. And though it was not part of the _plan_ it was only that that saved Emma Swan's pretty ass.

"A plan is a plan! Didn't I tell to stick to the plan and take care of this one first?"  
"Didn't I tell you to stay home?"

"You don't get to tell me to stay home. Or anywhere else by that matter. And if I had, you'd be dead by now."  
"Pfft. You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. You saw the spell coming too. And where do you think you're going, _rat_?" She held Roderick's body in a binding spell. "And now you're letting them escape. What is wrong with you?"

Emma snapped out of her trance. There was something just so damned sexy in this version of Regina, all anger and power and cleavage.

"Oh, just get it over with, Miss Swan. It's not polite to play with your murder victims."

"Yeah, you said that about food too, but _damn,_ Regina..."

"It's as true for one as it is for the other… See something you like, Miss Swan?"

"Hell yes..."

"Then get on with it."

"What part?"

Roderick's face was a priceless picture of disbelief, fear and anger. Emma drew her sword. "I think you should let him go."  
"What?"

"Is it polite to do this to some helpless twat?"

"The language, Miss Swan! You want me to let him go?"

"Yeah… sportsmanship and what have you…"

"Oh, very well." And Regina extinguished the spell. "Run, now, Roderick. Run!"

Those were the last words Roderick ever heard, right before his legs hit the floor and he started running for his worthless life. Emma's sword ran him through, neck to navel. It was almost as good as playing cut fruit on her phone (poor little thing, abandoned in Storybrooke). Except the gore was real. It shot something right through her lower half, a heat that was very, _very_ distracting.

"Now I think you had asked if I saw something I liked."

"Indeed."

"And I said I did."

"That is my recollection too."

"Thought so. Did you ever do it against a tree?"

"Do what?"

"You know, the horizontal mambo, the cha-cha-cha, the…"

"Charming…" Regina backed into a tree, step by step.

"Well, have you?"

"I might." Regina replied, already breathy and flushed. There was something unbelievably sexy about this warrior Emma.

"Smart ass." Emma pressed her into the bark of the tree. "Who was it, Gina?" And her mouth descended to Regina's neck, nipping menacingly here and there. Regina sagged against the bark of the tree, surrender enough to placate Emma. She placed her hands on each side of the tree, close to Regina's waist, not quite touching, still nipping at that pretty neck. "I might have had to cast an impotence spell here or there."

"That I would like to see."

"What? I'm perfectly capable."

"Forgive me if I have my reservations."

"Should I find someone to demonstrate?"

Regina grabbed Emma's face nose to nose with hers. "You've got the attention span of a hamster."  
"I'm cute as one too."

"You are amazingly self assured."

"Only with you. And come to think of it, I much prefer being the last one you'll be kissing than the first one you ever did."

It didn't take much these days. It seemed that she was permanently on the verge of tears. Regina's eyes glazed over and she tossed her arms around Emma's neck, pulling her warrior flush to her, inch by glorious inch. No, it didn't take long at all and she did begrudge a single one of those happy tears.

"Shut up and kiss me, Princess."


End file.
